


Breathless Weight of Shadows

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bestiality, Breathplay, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Other, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 13:48:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As a wife, a mother, a witch and a Weasley, she wasn't supposed to have these thoughts. These Riddle Thoughts. These Horcrux Thoughts.





	Breathless Weight of Shadows

Ginny'd learned her lesson about writing down her deepest, darkest secrets in a book. She knew how dangerous it could be. And yet, she found herself at the bookstore years later, running her fingers along the leather covering of the blank journal and feeling the magic of its invitation to tell it her secrets. Its promise that it would keep them safe, would allow her to have her thoughts and feelings and not be controlled by them.  
  
As a wife, a mother, a witch and a Weasley, she wasn't supposed to have these thoughts. These Riddle Thoughts. These Horcrux Thoughts. But, living with Harry all these years, she saw the residuals of being a Horcrux, the residuals of being used by Voldemort. Harry's residuals manifest themselves in the scar on his forehead. Ginny’s are further, deeper down.  
  
Sometimes she wondered if it were the Horcrux in Harry that drew her to him, if she’d always had this… _darkness_. And if that was why she sought out Harry, why Tom Riddle sought out her. However, she doesn’t wonder about this other obsession. She knows where it started.  
  
It started years before she was old enough to make sense of her desires. A child, in a magic world of ink on paper, taking her on an adventure into a boy’s diseased mind, and all the time, the slither of a snake following them, circling them. His sibilant hiss the soundtrack of her blossoming yearnings.  
  
Years later and it all had been pushed to the back of her mind, like a dream, only surfacing in the deepest of sleep, in the quietest of moments, alone.  
  
Until Harry.  
  
Until one night in the early stages of their romance, when they’d been particularly adventurous in bed and Harry was losing himself completely, he flicked his tongue into her ear and hissed. She gasped and clung to him tight, her blood pounding in a way she didn’t think possible, or safe. She froze, not wanting to break the spell. Harry was completely out of his head, not aware of what he was doing as he continued to drive into her, spitting and hissing through his release.  
  
She had wondered what he had said, but when she had asked, he looked at her horrified and didn’t even know that he had been talking in parseltongue. For weeks after, he was cautious and tender with her, terrified of his own subconscious psyche. She was a little frightened of hers as well; how much she _needed_ that hiss and sputter and the other wants it instilled in her.  
  
But, because she couldn’t ask Harry, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it, she got her journal and she wrote it down. With the writing came the dreams, and with the dreams came the need to write more down, to explore her desires further. It was a spiral that consumed her.

~oOo~

Nagini slithers to her in the mist. Rushes to her, over flora, rock and debris. The air hangs moist and heavy around them. Ginny stands alone in the clearing, the moonlight bathing her bare skin, glistening and shimmering along the wetted pores of her. All she hears is the disruption of vegetation as Nagini comes to her and the beating of her heart, loud and sporadic.

It seems a lifetime Ginny waits for her.

Then she is there, rising up to meet Ginny's eye. Her forked tongue flicks and vibrates as she speaks to Ginny. She doesn’t understand what Nagini says, but she knows anyway. Nagini is worshipping her, asking her to do the same. She knows because she feels it as her tongue flutters along the flesh of her chest, her shoulders, her neck. She feels it in Nagini's response to her hands caressing Nagini's slick, smooth scales. Ginny can feel her breathe through her exaltations, her skin prickling as Nagini slides along her.

She coils around Ginny, climbing her, her spitted hiss a devotional whisper along the flesh of Ginny's thighs, her backside, her hips, her tailbone, her ribs, her spine, her breasts, her shoulders, her throat. At first it is a loose coil around her shoulders, like the arms of a lover resting against Ginny, her tail between her legs, the tongue flicking against her earlobe, urging her to ask for what she wants. She starts along the quivering scales around her ribcage, digging the pads of her fingers, massaging her request as she reaches down between her legs, feeling the strong muscled girth of her beloved.

 _Wife. Mother. Witch. Weasley,_ flits into her mind, uninvited. Suddenly the hiss in her ear changes, becomes angry, reminding her the reasons they are there has nothing to do with in between her legs. There is something else Nagini gives her, something else only she can. Ginny throws her head back, begging for it.

She gasps at how suddenly Nagini tightens around her, starting at her hips, binding her arms to her side. The way her skin burns as it is pulled and twisted, sets her on fire, but it isn’t until Nagini tightens around her throat that she feels the most alive. The air, fighting to leave her, the struggle to get it back, and now she’s the one hissing. “Yesssssss. Pleasssssssse.”

She opens her eyes; Nagini’s there, staring at her, her tongue inches from her nose. Coaxing her to just let go. She fights it though. She can’t surrender to it just yet, she needs to feel… more. She tries to fight against the tightened, slick muscle of the snake with the muscles of her windpipe, imagining that she can feel it pushing against Nagini, wanting one last breath.

Just... one... more…

Her mind leaves her body, hovering over them, watching. Sometimes she’s not the only one watching. Sometimes Harry is there too, in the edge of the clearing, hiding along the shadows. And sometimes it’s someone else, a dark haired, dark souled boy. They both do the same thing though, whisper to the snake, telling her to do what they could not, urging him to give her the one thing she wants that they can not give her.

~oOo~

She woke up with a gasp. Then another. She flailed around like she’d just been freed, like she’d just been given the use of her arms again, which in her mind, was actually what had happened. She was shaking as she breathed too fast, too deep. It’s a moment before she even realized that Harry was there, hovering over her. His fingers digging into her forearms trying to wake her and still her at the same time.

“Shh, shhh, shhh,” he whispered to soothe, but the sibilance in it brought it all back and she was again on fire, once again _wanting._

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him to her. He placed his hand on her chest, as if summoning the power to still her heart to a normal, healthy speed. He wanted to heal her, but she needed something else. Needed to feel alive. She kissed him before opening herself to him, giving him the one thing he needed. And as his eyes glazed and darkened, he gave her the one thing he could give her; with his lips at her throat, his breath hot and moist, he hissed and sputtered his exaltations.

The first few times that this had happened, he was too startled or concerned to fully commit to what she had been offering, but over the years, he’d come to expect that the best sex of their lives happened after she’d woken from what he probably assumed was a nightmare.

But it wasn’t a nightmare, and it had nothing to do with what she was in her everyday life. It had nothing to do with her life as a wife, a mother, a witch and a Weasley.


End file.
